‘Yes. But that’s exactly it. He seems ever so nice. But he’s not. He’s a complete tart.’
‘A tart?’
‘Och. A right old slapper. He’ll shag anything that moves.’
‘Flint?’
‘’Course Flint. If it’s got a pulse and a hole – he’s in there. And actually, it doesn’t even need to have a pulse. Just the hole will do.’
Ana’s face crumpled with confusion.
We’ve all had him, you know.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Flint. All of us. Me. Cathy. Lol.’
‘Lol?’
‘Uh-huh – and Bee.’
Ana suddenly felt like she’d been kicked in the chest by a shire horse. She gulped as an image of a tiny Bee writhing around under a huge naked Flint flashed through her mind. ‘No …’ she managed to croak.
‘Aye.’
‘But – I mean – how do you know?’
‘Cuz she told me, silly. That’s what girls do, isn’t it? Talk about stuff. Yeah. Bee and Flint had their moments. D’you see what I mean now? Keep away from Flint. You’re a nice girl and he’ll take advantage of you if you let him …’
‘Well,’ said Ana sniffily, regaining her composure, ‘I’ve got no intention of letting him do anything. I’m really not interested in him in that way.’
‘Good,’ said Gill, finally realizing her bra strap was hanging down and snapping it back on to her shoulder, ‘that’s good. But I tell you what – if you want a nice, no-strings shag, you could do a lot worse than Flintypoos. He’s fucking great in the sack. And his bits are all in proportion, if you get my drift.’
A click from across the hallway drew their attention away from Flint’s proportions and towards Gill’s bedroom.
‘Oh, Lloyd, sorry. I was just talking to my lodger.’ In the doorway stood a very pale man wtih a long face and thin legs. ‘Lloyd – this is Ana – Ana – this is Lloyd.’ They both smiled politely at each other and said ‘Hi.’
‘Lloyd was our stripper tonight.’ She turned and grinned at him saucily. ‘But I’ve kidnapped him, see. Kept him all for myself. Anyway – I’ll let you get to bed now. You must be knackered.’ She got on to her tiptoes and left another big wet kiss on Ana’s cheek. ‘You sleep tight now.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ana, trying to wipe the wet kiss away surreptitiously, ‘yeah. You too.’ She was just about to close the door when Gill suddenly turned round again.
‘Ooh,’ she said, ‘I nearly forgot to tell you. Your mother called.’
‘Oh God – when? What did she want?’
‘Oh, she just wanted your address. She said she had some mail to forward on to you. She’s ever so nice, your mother, isn’t she? Really friendly. Anyway. I’ve got sex on a stick waiting for me next door. N’night.’
She waved at Ana and closed the door behind her, and Ana collapsed on to her bed in a state of total and utter shock. What was her mother up to? This ‘having some mail to forward’ thing sounded highly suspicious – Ana didn’t get any mail. And Flint. Jesus. Horrible. He just didn’t feel like … Flint any more. He didn’t feel like a protector, he felt like a predator. He’d had sex with pretty much everyone Ana had met since she’d arrived in London. He’d had sex with Bee. And he’d lied to her. Told her that Bee was asexual. What else had he lied about or neglected to tell her?
She pulled off her clothes, pulled back her duvet and fell into a deep and instantaneous sleep.
30
Flint awoke at nine the next morning feeling strangely energized. Which was weird, because he usually woke up feeling like a ninety-year-old man with emphysema.
He made himself a cup of mint tea and a bowl of Alpen, picked up theIndependentfrom his doormat and made his way out to the garden, where he sat on his armchair in his boxer shorts and soaked up a few early morning rays. He looked ahead of him at the stool he’d brought out for Ana to sit on last night. It was still where she’d left it, directly opposite him, her empty lager can on the ground next to it, and he could almost see her sitting on it – all hunched and awkward, her legs all twisted around themselves, picking at her fingernails, covering her face with her hands every few seconds, blushing constantly. He smiled to himself at the image.
He was just about to bring a spoonful of cereal to his lips when something hit him on the back of his neck. Something wet and cold and heavy. He looked up for a large bird but couldn’t see anything. He put his bowl down on the grass and gingerly put a hand out to his neck. He prodded a bit and cringed. There was something there. Something squidgy and wet and disgusting. He grimaced and very, very gently picked the thing up between two fingernails. It was a large lump of wet pink toilet paper. And at the same moment that he worked out what it was,another large lump landed on the grass at his feet and he heard the snorty sounds of stifled laughter. He looked up again. Two small faces in the top-floor flat disappeared.